The Singles Jukebox

Hey, cuz, how are you doing? Why don’t we just tell you..

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Micha Cavaseno: Over a sample from the opening of Queens of the Stone Age’s debut OF ALL THINGS, Skepta finally manages to do something other than play bait content for his benefactors at i-D (now they have former junior mayor of Lewisham Novelist running around rhyming about weed and white girls and abandoning The Square for his “TuugSet” =_=). His approach as an MC has always been bull in the china shop, so his more considered and spacious attempts at writing have actually been detrimental. The self-consciousness of his consistent branding, with the “white n***az/black mates” pat on the back for his Student Loan Roadman fan contingent, and “Tracksuit Mafia” Jason? Come on. But Skepta has been excellent at being rude and calling out other people on THEIR bullshit, hypocritical as it may be. So give him a heavy beat and the Meridian Walk Man Dem can always deliver.
[6]

Alfred Soto: A Queens of the Stone Age sample powers it, I’m told, but Skepta’s rarin’ to go anyway. “Told me you was a big fan/ But the first thing you said when you saw me is/Can I get a pic for the ‘gram?” rasps the dude who hates Instagram. Yeah, you do that, bro. For an artist whose self-possession has felt less chimerical than his claim to a privacy that was never threatened, “Man” earns at least part of its furor.
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Cassy Gress: On Queens of the Stone Age’s self-titled, that opening riff in “Regular John” functions as an ominous leer. In “Man”, it’s turned almost into an air raid siren. Skepta is fed up with the article-less “man” who hangs around all the time, attempting to mooch off him and his real friends, and you can hear the fed-up seeping from his voice.
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Claire Biddles: The most surprising and wonderful moments are when the lyrical back and forth between the communal and the private echoes in the production — when claustrophobic sampled guitars, voice and drum hits suddenly pan out to include echoing voices, the space around the percussion expanding and multiplying only to suck itself in again half way through a line.
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Edward Okulicz: If I hadn’t already heard “That’s Not Me” and “Shutdown,” this might be an 8 or a 9, but Skepta’s relative renaissance has robbed him of the element of surprise. While the lyrics definitely bring a few lols (Myspace, titter), the sample’s menacing whine wears me out by the end. As long as Skepta’s throwing out jabs like a drunk boxer, or a magician juggling and spilling an entire deck of cards, it’s hard not to grin along though.
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Brad Shoup: As the bars unspool he gets more and more unsteady. You can hear him trying to undo syntactical knots; you can imagine him passing off unrelated lines as the work of a man who can’t be bothered. Good sample, though: it sounds like an ice cream truck for mosquitoes.
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Will Adams: Didn’t realize Lavender Town had such a big grime scene.
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Megan Harrington: Skepta’s silliness makes the seriousness of the production grate. All the talk of calling up moms and taking pictures for Instagram makes the Drake connection not just apparent but natural. 
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